


Art Angels

by testosterown (AnimusOrigo1)



Series: Stanzas Lain in Parallel [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, M/M, Primarily Stars OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimusOrigo1/pseuds/testosterown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, you don't know where you're from, and you got nowhere to go? Don't tell me with your story, cause I've got my own."</p><p>The Institute becomes bereft of yet another synth, though their departure resembles little of the others. What he, what the whole world stands to gain becomes revealed slowly as he discovers the origins of his creation and the extent of what makes him so prized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art Angels

**HE KNEW NOT EVEN THE QUESTIONS HE WAS SUPPOSED TO ASK,** and it became pertinent as he stood upon the rooftop overlooking Cambridge that he would need to gather what it was he knew before he could even start. If he were start at the beginning, perhaps, it would be best. He knew he was something he wasn’t supposed to be, first and foremost. He knew he was in grave danger, though from whom or what was unclear. As he started out into the Commonwealth, a name repeated itself in his head.

              _Leon._ It stuck out as one of the only names that came among the words that raced through him. It was, in fact, the only such one that came since he awoke in a room in the building he came from, the building he stood upon at that moment. For the nonce, he figured it would serve well as something to go by.

            He reached up and rubbed at his face, fingers running along his soft and slender jawline as idle ministrations while he thought. Patchwork summations and fragmentary passages gave him just enough to go on to survive, he knew that much. The world was not an unfamiliar place, for however new he was, he was unlike those who held an ignorance only fools and the innocent might know.

             But the questions would have to stop for now. He knew well enough the dangers present and that how he exposed himself was a danger he was better off avoiding. He looked about and saw his options: There was a rusty fire escape he could use to climb his way down, but such a thing had little range for movement and was too slow for his liking if by chance he were caught. There was scaffolding with what looked like improvised wooden ramps that led to ground level. It was a faster route, but it carried the risk of leading him straight to a raider compound. There was a section of building that gradually became shorter in height, and he could feasibly make the jumps. This, however, might have caused the most attention over a long period of time short of barging into an encampment.

            But that mattered little. The choices were there, and they needed to be made.

            He saw fit to attempt the fire escape. Spindly legs that held a spindly torso bolted in a manner that would surprise any onlookers, a jolt of speed that seemed unfit for such a skinny thing. Nevertheless did his journey end at the top platform when a Super Mutant looked him in the face, and soon after did bullets whizz by. Back to the roof did he go and decide he would move among the rooftops towards a better place. He had little faith in what lied at the end of the scaffolding and had no intention of facing those afflicted with the FEV virus – though he wondered why his fragmentary knowledge granted him that much.

            He, _Leon,_ he corrected himself, ran towards the end of the roof and towards the next building, legs easily letting him outpace the Mutant’s tracking. The leap seemed nigh superhuman for someone to make, though something in his blood told Leon that he should be not afraid. Voiceless intuition granted him the confidence to launch from the edge and sail through the air, and so a gap that seemed at least ten feet wide was easily forded. He continued, on and on, hands somehow privy to the flow of the cityscape’s rooftops as he found little that he couldn’t traverse. He found obstacles that only served as waist-high momentum generators, and found his speed made bullets that came pass with little effort on his part.

            Somehow, some way, he knew what he did was not human. Something in him made plain the advantage he had, though he knew not anything other than that.

            He let his mind wander away from his musings and let himself run without inhibition and glide through the air between buildings with little regard for gravity, if only for that split moment off the ground. The only decision he made then was to run towards the large structure in the distance, the diamond walls that stood as one of the few truly tall things left.

            There was nowhere else to be, and no place better than any other for answers.

 

  

            **AT THE VERY LEAST IT WAS A CITY WITH A FITTING NAME,** that of diamonds. While it was acceptable in a literal sense, it was something of luxury compared to the rest of the Commonwealth. Though, he knew that it was only in the most relative of manners, that which could consider safety a luxury rather than a given.

            Though despite the knowledge Leon could not place a source on, it seemed not that he knew as much as he should. Past the gate lied a thriving community of wanderers, businessmen, refugees, and most notably, people who stared at him for uncomfortable periods of time. Their faces weren’t like his, though, they had carried the dirt of the world and the lines that marked their visages seemed the great divide that marked those who knew better and those who had the displeasure of knowing life as it truly was in the Commonwealth. It was the stark contrast to the face Leon bore, the one he saw in the reflection in the water. He was smooth skinned with a young, nearly feminine look about him that seemed to ice over with a smoldering stare he never thought to free himself of. His hair was clean, styled with golden bangs that dared not trespass beyond his eyebrows and into his line of vision. To some, perhaps he could be seen as the comeliest in the city, and that was something that perhaps stood out.

            Regardless, longer did he wander throughout the city before he had felt a hand that jerked him by the shoulder and nearly tipped him off balance. He let his head swivel quickly and see who had surprised him, and it was simply a young looking woman. She wore a press cap, a red leather trench jacket, and a stare not unlike his own. “You’re new around here. Are you looking for something?”

            Leon didn’t give an answer for what he surmised to be an uncomfortable amount of time.

            “Last person who hesitated to answer was a vault dweller. You a vault dweller, too?” She asked while her hips shifted, a clear suspicion projected from within her. 

            Leon, however, merely shook his head.

            “Well. That leaves only one other reason you look so… squeaky-clean. I’ve never seen clothes like that, either.” She eyed the nearly fey man once more and squinted her eyes, “You gotta be a synth.”

            Something about the word she said seemed to spread through his head, reminiscent of the sort of spray foam that slithered and filled the cracks so effortlessly. It was a word that which brought associations that were the bridges between memories, and so brought nearly a greater hesitation than the nere obstacle of knowing not at all.

            “…Are you an escaped synth?” She asked quietly as she turned away and beckoned with a finger, and away she went. “But don’t answer that yet.”

            Leon knew little of what to do. Surely she did not expect to take her at her word, and surely he should have exercised far more caution than he was about to toss aside, but he knew nothing else he could do. If this ended badly, he figured he was equipped well enough to handle whatever lied beyond the other side of where she would take him. At the worst, he could wander away and wander ever eternally as he would if he simply walked away at the nonce.

            But he continued with her, and so he followed her into what seemed like her house. It was sparse, but it seemed livable enough. A little girl stared at Leon and looked to the woman then. She had not the time to speak before the woman continued, “So. Are you? An escaped synth?”

            “The word strikes meaning within me, but I do not know…” He trailed off for a moment, a search for the words before he continued, “My memory is sparse. There is something telling me I am not like anyone else.” It was the first time Leon had heard his own voice, and it seemed fitting for how he appeared. It was smooth and young and so light despite the fullness with which he spoke. 

            “That’s… probably a yes?” The woman said back, unsure in her tone as she crossed her arms. “For now, I’m going to assume… yeah, you are. Escaped Institute synths with wiped memories aren’t uncommon. Have you told anyone else about your identity?”

            “You are the first person I have ever spoken to." 

            She blinked hard at that. “…So, no. You have not. I’ll do you a favor and tell you to keep that under wraps. Most people don’t like synths, and no one likes the Institute. All with good reason. They abduct people and replace them with synth copies for whatever agenda they might have.” She said as she made her way to the sofa. She sat then and crossed her legs. “So what’s your name?”

            “Leon.” He replied dryly. 

            “Name’s Piper. Over there,” She pointed at the little girl, “Is my sister, Nat. We run the newspaper here. Publick Occurances. We report the truth, regardless of how much the people want to hear it. We’re making sure people know about the Institute.”

            He canted his head a moment, but refrained from any digression, “So you know what to do with… me?" 

            She shook her head at that, “I know who to refer you to. He might be able to set you up nicely. His name’s Nick Valentine, and he’s another synth who escaped. He makes a living here being a detective.”

            “But the people of Diamond City don’t like synths, I thought.”

            A shrug from Piper. “You save a mayor’s daughter and suddenly you’re pretty alright with the town. He’s a good guy, and I’m sure he’ll be able to set you straight.”

            Leon nodded. While he was still wary, it was at the very least comforting to hear that one who could identify with him would be able to provide more knowledge regarding why it was he stood where he did. “Do you know where he is?”

            She shrugged, “He’s off helping some other guy with a bone to pick with the Institute. Some man whom the Institute took his infant son and killed his wife. Said they might find a way to the Institute itself if they’re lucky. You can stay here until he’s back.”

            Leon blinked. “Do you not also dislike the Institute?” The sort of inconsistencies and juxtapositions brought upon so readily by the world surely did not help matters, as he found himself with no sort of ground to hold firm and think clearly about his situation. The questions flooded his mind and each seemed further removed from the bare truth he sought out.

            “I don’t think you’re… _Institute_ Institute, you know? You seem confused, and there are places for people like you who exist.” Piper said, more reclined in her seat than before. “It’ll be until about the next day when they come back, if what they’re doing goes well. I don’t know if they’ll be able to answer all your questions, but I’m sure they’ll find as good a place as any for you to exist.”

            Leon bowed his head in a display of formal gratitude, though he thought not to smile as well as he did so. “Thank you, Piper. This is… a confusing experience for me, and it is good to hear that I will be in good hands.”

            Piper shrugged. “It’s no problem, Leon. It’s hard not to feel bad, y’know? You’re just suddenly created, purposed as a tool given free will but… I’unno. Robbed of what should make you human. If they’re so callous as to just throw people away and replace them with robots, they can’t be so nice to all the robo-property they bother to spit out." 

            “These will be words to reflect upon. I have a great many.” He said.

            “Sit somewhere. It’ll be a lot of time for you to think, at least, before they get back.” Piper said back while she gestured to chairs around and the sofa that which she sat upon.

            And so Leon did. He had little idea as to the fortune he had stumbled upon in the City, though he knew little of the hardships he very well might have to bear. If he truly were escaped property, there would be no doubt as to if he would be pursued. But they were questions to reflect upon quietly throughout the night. He was in no rush to wear thin the pathways of his mind that which he explored relentlessly.

            The inevitable would just have to meet him when it was ready.


End file.
